


Bottled Glory

by shiftylinguini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Art, Auror Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Fanart, Humor, Knitting, M/M, Potion Maker Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/pseuds/shiftylinguini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weather is rotten, Draco’s been hanging out with the potion mob again, and Harry just wants his dinner. Featuring cats, bad knitting, terrible taste in pizza, and more potions ingredients than you can poke a stick at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bottled Glory

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](http://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/105908.html) for 2015 HD FanFair, for the prompt of potions, and Draco being weird/like Snape around his potioneer colleagues.

Harry walked in the door, and threw his keys in the jar.

“Draco?” He called. “I’m home! It’s pissing down out there.”

  


He pulled a glove off with his teeth, and threw his robe over the couch. He was knackered, and wanted nothing more than to collapse on the sofa with an entire pizza, and convince his boyfriend to read to him; no one did the voices like Draco.

Harry knew better, however, than to order food before consulting His Fussiness. Draco was forever teasing him about his terrible taste, the snooty git. Probably wanted foie gras and prunes on his pizza, or something equally revolting and pompous, Harry mused.

But where was Draco? Harry remembered him prattling over breakfast about a meeting in the afternoon with his _“fellow appreciators of the subtle science of potion-making, Potter. Now pass the jam”_. Harry had been ferreting around in the pantry for the aforementioned jam at the time, and had forgotten to listen to the rest.

Those meetings were held in London, in a horribly clichéd dungeon, Harry assumed. Draco was always back by dinner though, which meant he was presumably skulking around in his basement potions lab.

There was only so much time you could spend with that potioneer lot, anyway, as far as Harry was concerned. Bloody weird, broody mob, the lot of them. Not a clean hair between them, and was scowling and wearing black some kind of unspoken requirement?

Harry shook his head. Thank Merlin he got the normal one, although they did make Draco go a bit…weird himself. _Snape-y_ , almost. Harry made a face. He much preferred regular Draco, who sang badly in the kitchen, knitted atrociously, and who was steadily adopting half the neighbourhood’s cats.

“Draco?” He called again, slumping towards the basement. “D’you fancy ordering in? Because we could try that new piz-”

Harry stopped, and his heart sank. He could hear muttering coming from inside the lab. _Dramatic muttering_. He braced himself, and twisted the handle.

“Good evening, Mr Potter.”

Harry blinked. Robes swished. A cauldron belched offensively.

Draco slowly turned to face him. “Our. New. _Celebrity._ ”

Harry coughed, and waved some particularly putrid fumes away from his face. “Yes. Hello, Draco. Meeting went well then, I take it?”

“I can bewitch the mind. Ensnare the senses…” Draco continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “I can brew glory, bottle fame, and even--”

Harry sagged against the doorframe and rubbed his temple. Here it bloody comes, he sighed.

“--Put a stopper in DEATH!” Draco finished loudly, folding his arms.

  


“Mmhmm.” Harry smiled, and ran a hand through his hair. “That's great. Right, so I’ll get dinner in, and you can meet me on the couch in thirty, when you’re done…” Harry waved a hand at the room. “Bottling glory holes and everything.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry rolled his in reply, and turned to leave.

“Oh, and don’t forget the book,” Harry called over his shoulder. “You know the one. We’re on chapter five.”

Well, Harry smirked to himself as he stomped up the stairs, at least he’s not wearing the wig this time.

**Epilogue**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love! Come find me on [LJ ](http://shiftylinguini.livejournal.com/profile/)or [tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard)<3


End file.
